


Sharing

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dixoncest, Incest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, dixcest, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from tumblr: Set in the same AU as my previous work, 'The Toy'. Merle continues to teach Daryl about how to enjoy himself. At first Daryl is unsure, but he figures that he shares everything else with Merle anyway, why not enjoy himself and let his brother show him what he likes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing

He doesn’t remember much about his mom, but what he does remember was that the house was different when she was there. A woman’s touch. That’s what people called it, and at first he’d never understood what in God’s name people were talking about. Their house was their house, was the same as always, and one of their family members being a woman never seemed to make a difference to him. Until she went and died. Now he gets it. Things had gone downhill quickly.

The house had never really been clean before, there was always stuff out of place and just shoved where it would go, but it wasn’t exactly dirty. Dishes got cleaned, trash got thrown out, things got put away and even if it wasn’t perfect, wasn’t exactly orderly, it wasn’t bad either. Now things had really gone to hell with it being just their dad, Merle and himself. If they ever had food on plates, they didn’t get cleaned. Trash didn’t so much get taken out, as slowly begin to pile up closer and closer to the door. Things kind of went missing because they’d been put somewhere and then enveloped by the rest of the crap around the place. The kitchen has a definite musk of mould smell nowadays, some of the stains Daryl knows will never come out, and honestly he doesn’t even want to try and fix it. He figured their house was now more separated into zones rather than rooms.

They had the kitchen danger zone, that was probably growing a new breed of bacteria that they could have named after themselves. Dixonus Grossia, found under the mountain of filth, just left of the strange mould pattern on the ceiling that kind of looked like a moose.

The chair in front of the TV was their dad’s zone. The borders of it marked by the reach of the empty beer cans, empty bottles, and full ashtrays. The chair itself was scorched, burn marks from carelessness, some were deliberate, but Daryl knew the chair wasn’t exactly his dad’s favourite thing to put his cigarettes out on. He liked the chair too much to do that to it. Dad’s zone had a path to it, the dirty carpet winding through the crap to the chair and then to the bathroom down the hall. There wasn’t even a path to the master bedroom anymore, because it wasn’t like his dad ever used it. The master bedroom was the forbidden zone, Daryl didn’t know what was in it, didn’t want to know, and knew better than to ask or to try and go inside. Their tiny shack of a house was still scorched from the fire, still had burn marks, and he knows the master bedroom was hit hardest, but he daren’t go inside and look. It was nothing more than a black shadow that lurked always on the edge of their periphery.

Bathroom was neutral territory. Not so much a zone but more just unclaimed space. Bare. It worked well enough, at least when the water was still on, but still had the air of being unkept about it. Scum had built up around the plugholes, sometimes the sink didn’t drain all the way, and there was always some stray hair around the place from where someone had shaved and not bothered to clean up. Still, least it worked, even if the shower over the tub kind of switched between spitting water and dribbling it, it worked well enough for them.

The only other zone left was their room. His and Merle’s room. Well technically Merle and his room. It had been Merle’s first, as his brother liked to point out often enough. But then Daryl had gone and outgrown the drawer that had been his first bed, then outgrown the broken old crib that had been at the bottom of their parent’s bed, and it had become their room. Two single beds, each one shoved against the wall on either side, leaving a trench of carpet between them both.

The room is small, barely enough room for the both of them when Daryl had been smaller and not needed much space, but now he was seventeen? There really wasn’t enough room. They had a chest of drawers between them, clothes shoved inside and spilling out onto the floor below, piles of laundry mixed in with dirty clothing, and crap all over the place. Playboy posters adorn the walls, stuck up with tape, peeling, ripped, thrown up over the walls to cover the cracks and chipped paint. Random crap adorns the place, from empty cigarette packets and assorted trash, to books, some hunting stuff, and Daryl knows there is an alarm clock somewhere under everything that goes off at 7am daily and drives him insane because he can’t find the damned thing to turn it off. It’s a mess sure, but it’s not dirty like the rest of the house. Daryl may not be house proud, but when this was the only space he deemed half acceptable, he tried to keep it kind of clean.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but he kind of liked their room. Unlike the rest of the house, he didn’t mind spending his time there, and since the other zones were either dirty, or had their dad in it, he ends up practically living in their room. It was safer, and even if dad always reminded him that ‘everything under this roof belongs to him’, the fights, and the violence always kind of stayed in the other zones. Behind the busted door, with no working lock due to Merle kicking himself through it one drunken night, things were safer in his room. Their room. Christ how could he forget it was their room?

Daryl doesn’t think he’s ever had anything that was solely his own. Every scrap of his clothing used to be Merle’s once. His room used to be Merle’s first. His hunting gear used to be Merle’s or their dad’s first. Honestly he can’t think of anything that’s truly ‘his’. Not even his own body is his anymore. Instead it’s a mix of his dad’s cigarette burns, some wounds inflicted by the old man’s belt, bruises caused by his dad’s fists. His skin belonged to his dad, it was obvious that he was his dad’s favourite stress relief toy, and the aches and pains that plagued him everyday were evidence of that. Every day he tried to stop it, but sometimes it was just easier to stop fighting and let it happen. Silently take the hits and retreat to his room afterwards to get over it.

His room. Their room. Was Merle’s room first.

Everything was Merle’s first. They’ve always shared everything since they were kids. Since he’d arrived Merle had been forced to share everything with him. From the house, to their room, to clothing, to food, to their dad’s attention. He knew Merle had been hit first, knew it was the reason Merle always went away and spent more time away from home than here. Since his brother had gotten older, bigger, stronger, his dad had moved his attention elsewhere, reluctant to get hit back by Merle anymore. Instead he hit Daryl now, and even if was seventeen, growing, getting stronger and bigger by the day, he didn’t quite have the backbone to fight back. He’d tried before, and the smack down he’d gotten in return had not been worth the tiny bruise he’d seen on his dad’s cheek. So he let it happen, took the beatings with grit teeth, ‘like a man’ his dad would say, and then retreated into his room afterwards.

Slamming the door behind him, he hates that it doesn’t lock anymore, but at least it puts a barrier between himself and his dad. The evening game is still blaring from the TV, and now his dad has gotten his daily dose of stress relief, Daryl knows he won’t move from his chair for the rest of the night. It’s a small relief, but the bruises blossoming on his ribs might not have been worth it. They hurt like a bitch, and shoving up his shirt, Merle’s shirt first, to run his fingers over them makes him wince. Purples and blues coat his skin, and even if he knows that nothing is broken, it doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt like a bitch and make things difficult for the next few days.

Still at least it’s over for now. It’s a small relief but it’s relief all the same. One he feels through his entire being as he lays back on his bed. Already the world is turning dark, the noise of cicadas chirping in the air outside, and seventeen year old Daryl Dixon is hiding in his room to avoid another beating. It’s pathetic. Other kids his age were hanging out, trying to score alcohol underage, smoking and trying to be cool as they chased each other around to try and get laid. But here he is, stuck in his only safe zone, in Merle’s old clothes, in his dad’s shitty house, and trying to be quiet enough to pretend he doesn’t exist. It sucks. But it’s the way things are for him.

The night draws in, and even if he should be out there trying to be a normal teenager, instead he’s kicking off his socks and jeans, and slumping into his bed to try and sleep away the ache in his ribs. Pressed up against the wall he curls into himself as always, back to the rest of the room, the rest of the house, the rest of the world and trying to forget about it all for at least a few hours.

A few hours is all he gets before he’s awoken by the bedroom door being kicked open.

Of course he tenses, but whatever self-preservation he’s got left kick in and stops him from reacting enough to show he’s awake. Play dead. It was easier than trying to defend himself with bruised ribs anyway. Peering at the wall through the darkness he feels on edge, because this was meant to be the safe zone, his room was meant to be off limits, dad wasn’t meant to come in here. He’d taken his punishment already tonight, and he wasn’t sure if he could take any more right now. Clenching his hands into fists he tries to keep his breathing even, tries to play at being asleep when really his whole body felt tense and ready to run as far away as he could.

“Motherfuckin’…”

Immediately all the tension disappears. It’s just Merle. Just his brother coming back to their shared room after being God knows where all night. He feels he can relax again, so he closes his eyes, lets himself sink back into the pillow and doze as he listens to Merle swear as he tries to make his way to his own bed through the piles of crap. It’s known to him, and even if his eyes are closed he can almost see exactly what Merle is doing as he moves around the room.

There’s the thud of Merle’s boots being removed and kicked across the room out of the way. The clink of a belt being undone. The whisper of clothes being removed and tossed aside, followed by the creak of the old mattress springs when Merle sits on his bed. He hears his brother yawn, hears some muttered cursing but there is no sound of a pill bottle being opened and Daryl is grateful for that. Even if he was pretending to be asleep, and was probably going to fall asleep again soon enough, he always prefers Merle off the pills. He can hear as Merle settles, groaning as he stretches out on his bed across the room, and there is the pop and click of some joints before the sigh of his brother relaxing. It makes him relax too and soon enough there is just the silence of the night in their shared room.

He’s ready for sleep, ready to just leave the crappy night behind him and prepare himself for the next day. It’s not always easy to relax in their house, not with their dad ready to blow up at any second, and when Merle was on his pills sometimes he was just as bad. The only zone he felt relatively safe in was this one, in their room, in his bed and allowed to just ignore everything else he hated about his situation. Some nights he doesn’t even feel safe enough to sleep, but tonight isn’t one of those thankfully, and he only feels comfortable and ready to get a few more hours rest.

Until Merle starts jerking off on the other side of the room.

It’s not like he’s not been through it before. Two guys sharing a room, things were gonna happen, and most of the time they just played dumb, ignored what the other was doing and pretended to be asleep. He’s probably heard his brother jerking off hundreds of times before, but for some reason this time it’s different. This time he wants to listen, he wants to hear Merle touch himself and he knows it might be wrong, but it’s Merle own fault really.

He’s been thinking about what happened between them almost every night since. Sometimes when he’s jerking off himself, he likes to remember how it had felt when Merle was doing it for him. It had been a mistake, an accident, but it’s one that he would make again and again because it had felt so damned good. He loves thinking back to how Merle had caught him using his brother’s fleshlight, and how Merle hadn’t yelled or laughed. His brother had made everything so much better. Grabbed him up, held him in his lap and worked the tight, slippery toy over his cock until he’d been coming so damned fast and hard it had made him see stars.

That had been over a week ago. Merle had been back and forth a few times since then, but Daryl’s barely seen him. He’d find evidence of Merle being home, taking some things, leaving others, but this is really the first time Merle has been back properly. It makes him crave more of what had happened before. So many nights he’d laid here and thought about it, played it over and over in his head as he’d touched himself, and wished for more. He was young, inexperienced, and still learning about himself and what he liked. But Merle was eleven years older than him, and he knew his big brother had plenty of experience and knowledge that he could show him. Plenty that he wanted to be taught first hand. Just the thought of it makes his cheeks colour, and he’s glad he’s facing the wall away from Merle, sure that it would be noticed even if it is dark.

It starts out as it always does, just the sounds of Merle shifting around in his bed, a tiny noise of intrigue, and the shuffle of clothing being pushed aside. Daryl knows Merle dresses as he does to sleep, vest and underwear, so his brother has probably gotten himself hard, and shoved his hand down the front of his boxers to begin touching himself. He knew what Merle’s dick looked like. They grew up together, was impossible not to have seen each other bare assed throughout the years. So he knew what Merle’s cock looked like, besides it wasn’t like Merle was shy, and last time he’d gotten to see his dick. He’d been able to get a glimpse as Merle had shoved him away, and he’d been able to watch as his brother plunged his hard cock inside the tight fleshlight, using Daryl’s own cum as lubricant.

He wondered if Merle would use it again. The toy was still somewhere around here, probably hidden alongside Merle’s pills and money, tight and just waiting to be used again. The thought makes him squirm in his own bed, hoping he can pass it off as just moving in his sleep when in reality his cock was already hard in his underwear, and he wanted some sort of friction on it. Twitching his hips a little he grinds the head of his cock against the fabric of his underwear, and he can hear when Merle begins to touch himself properly in his own bed.

There’s a small grunt, Merle moves around a little more, and Daryl can hear when he starts up the usual rhythm as he strokes his cock. He can hear when his brother starts breathing a little heavier, breaths coming in short bursts, in time with each stroke of his dick. There is the slightest hint of wetness to the movements, Merle’s dick already leaking out pre come, making it slick when he rubs over himself. It’s such a small noise but it only makes Daryl’s dick throb in want, and he can feel himself leak a little at the mere thought of getting to see his brother’s cock like that.

It’s wrong. He knows it’s so wrong to think things like that, but he can’t help it. He’s not got any real experience with anybody else, and aside from the half naked girls stuck over their bedroom walls, he hasn’t got much material to fantasise about. Is it really surprising that his mind has latched on to his only real experience and gone wild with it? His body didn’t seem to care about them being related, and when the mere thought of his brother touching him makes his cock twitch in want, Daryl can’t believe for a second that it’s wrong. Ever since Merle had made him come last time he’s been wanting more, craving more, touched his dick to the thought of it and hoped in some sick part of his soul that Merle would come home and do it again to him.

Now here he is, lying in his bed, listening to the short sharp panting Merle is making from his side of the room, and wishing it was happening on the back of his neck and not so far away. He can hear Merle jerking off, sliding his fingers around his cock and tugging on it, making his brother moan a little, the tiniest noises of excitement and pleasure falling from his lips. It makes him shiver, and Daryl can’t help but slowly trail a hand down his own body to brush over where his hard dick is insistently straining against his underwear. He moves carefully, eyes still shut, still feigning sleep with his back to Merle as he tugs his cock free from his clothing, his fingertips just brushing against the head. It makes him bite on his lip to stop any noise from escaping.

Merle is still going, pace picking up a little now, breathing going in time with each stroke, and Daryl can hear the tiniest creak of the old mattress beneath his brother as he moves. It’s not the warmest of nights, but he feels hot. He feels flushed as he listens to Merle hiss out a tiny gasp, the smallest of curses falls from his brother’s lips and Daryl feels so guilty for pulling back his foreskin and rubbing over the head of his own cock. Already he’s leaking, wet, pre come staining his fingertips as he plays with his slit, stroking over it, rubbing at the sensitive flesh and trying not to move too much to be noticed.

He knows Merle’s hands. Knows how rough they are. Knows every callous, every scar, every tiny inch of skin over them and how they feel to hold him, touch him, smack him, punch him. But he wants to feel them on him now. Daryl wants to know if it would make it better to have that roughness he knows so well touch him properly. Would those calluses catch on his cock if Merle wrapped his fingers around it? Would he move fast like last time? Would he laugh and call him names as he forced him to experience too much stimulation too fast? Or would he go slow and let him feel every second of it?

All he knows is that he wants it all.

The mere thought makes him tremble, makes him curl up a little tighter, one hand moving up to his mouth so he can bite on his fingers to silence himself, as the other hand wraps around his cock fully. He’s still so sensitive to every touch, even just the first stroke gets his dick throbbing in want of more. Merle is doing the same on his side of the room, rubbing over his length, and Daryl can hear the creak of springs in the mattress as Merle’s hips begin moving naturally into the touch. He can see it all happening in his head, he knows the faces Merle would pull, knows the grin he’d have as he touched himself, milked his dick for everything he’s got. Squeezing around his own cock he would be gasping if he could, going so slowly, being so careful not to get caught as he thrives on his fantasy mixing with reality.

His fingers are slick with pre come as he rubs over himself, giving the tiniest buck of his hips, wondering if they both do it the same way since they’re brothers. That makes him bite harder onto his lip, trying to smother any noise he could make as his hips twitch in want of more. Normally when he jacked off it was a quick thing, usually done in the shower for a quick release, but this was different, this was daring, it was so tantalisingly slow that it somehow made it all even better. Across the room he can hear the slick, wet sounds of Merle fucking his fist, taking his time too, not rushing it, just enjoying every single second of it all. A part of him wants to hurry up, wants to speed up and fuck his fist until he’s coming and it’s all over with. But he knows it’ll be better if he stays slow, besides he can’t let Merle notice what he’s doing.

Across the room there is another low groan, a muttered curse, but the slick sound of Merle’s cock in his grip continues, his brother drawing it out still. Daryl tries to keep himself from giving the game away, tries to focus on keeping still, but the more he tries to stop it the more he becomes aware of how every stroke of his hand moves the covers, makes a noise, reveals that he’s not asleep. It’s a game to try and balance the pleasure with caution, letting himself rub his fingers over the sensitive slit of his cock to gather more pre come, and then having to hold still for a breath before he could rub it over the head. It’s dangerous, it’s daring, and it’s far more exciting than it had any right to be. Besides it felt so damned good. His cock feels flushed, so hard and leaking, desperate for more against his belly and he wants to moan and give in to the fast pace he’s used to. It takes a lot of effort to stay still, to stay slow, and he’s kind of proud of himself for holding out so long when it happens.

“Enjoying yourself over there baby brother?”

He freezes. Hand around his sensitive cock, fingers wet, with pre come dripping to the sheet below as he tries to stay so completely still and feign sleep. It’s even more difficult with his breathing stuttered, wanting to gasp and pant at how good it all felt. Staying silent is hard, but he bites his fingers, tries to sink beneath the sheets and hide away more, tries to pretend he’s not been caught. Maybe if he’s lucky Merle will just let it be. His brother will do what they usually did and just ignore and let them both pretend that nothing happened. Nothing had happened. They could both just let this be and ignore it all, just shut up and let it pass. He’ll just pretend to be asleep and Merle can finish himself off, then he’ll have the privacy to do what needs to be done before sleeping himself.

“Aw now don’t go playing possum on me boy.” Merle sniggers, sounding confident, nothing but sure of himself even in this awkward situation. “I know what you’re doing, and I know you’re enjoying it too.” His brother never sounds anything but certain, strong, and Daryl knows just how funny this must be to Merle when the slick sounds of fingers on cock starts up again. Merle wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. Merle was enjoying this.

And from the way his cock twitches and leaks another drip of pre come onto his fingers, Daryl knows he’s not the only one.

The mattress creaks, there is the shuffle of feet on the floor and then the dip of his own mattress behind him as Merle decides not to be ignored. It makes him flinch, already wary of the consequences, and wondering just how many more bruises are going to be added to his collection. Shifting further away from his brother he tries to curl up tighter, tries to press closer to the wall and show Merle that he could just ignore it all. But Merle presses closer, lifts the sheets and slips beneath with him, all grown man and muscle, and the beds are so narrow there is no way he can move far enough away not to be touching his brother.

Merle presses right up against his back, no shame, no hesitation, just the whole of his front pressed to Daryl’s back and it makes him let out a tiny whimper when he feels Merle’s cock snug against his lower back. There is nothing accidental about it, Merle is all sure of himself and lets out a cocky chuckle, grinding up against him and Daryl loses all possibility of feigning sleep. Because it’s exciting, it’s hot as hell and he’s giving a tiny moan around his fingers as his body automatically tries to press back for more.

His brother is warm against him, both of them are breathing harder than usual, and it’s only making it more exciting when he knows this is wrong. They shouldn’t be this close, shouldn’t be this close and hard and desperate to come. His own hand is still around his dick, still holding his leaking cock, and shaking a little with nerves. But then Merle is there, breathing on the back of his neck, and his hand sneaks up over Daryl’s hip to reach down and curl around his cock. He does gasp then, fear and excitement mixing together to leave him overwhelmed and almost choking on a moan. “Merle…”

“Hush now little brother.” Merle whispers to him, being so careful, so quiet, so slow as he pushes aside Daryl’s hand to replace it with his own. And it feels so much better than he’d imagined it would be. Last time it was the fleshlight, fake, stiff and tight, and nothing like this. This was real, so damned real. He can feel Merle’s heat, can feel him breathing and how his older brother’s fingers can flex around his length and coax out more pre come from him. “Let Merle teach you how to do this properly.”

Daryl knows he should protest. He should know that they’re brothers, and this sort of thing between brothers was so damned wrong. But it feels too good, and even if he knows he should not want this, he’s still pressing into Merle’s grasp for more, giving the tiniest hitch of his hips and whimpering at the feeling of Merle’s fingertips over his dick. It’s too good, too real and raw, and it feels like everything else in the world doesn’t mean shit because right now he’s feeling so damned hot for more. He wants so much more.

“Please Mer…” He whispers, voice low, because he knows this is a secret, this has to be a secret between just the two of them, and if they never speak of it out loud, then fine, because he just needs it right now. “Please show me.” He’s still so young, so new to all of this, but Merle was eleven years older, and if there was anybody that knew how to make it feel good, it was him. Just the thought makes him tremble, and he’s already groaning when Merle’s hand closes into a tight fist around him.

“Yeah, look at you.” Merle is grinning, he can’t see it, but he can feel it. He knows his brother too well and Merle is probably smirking like an asshole at getting to do this to him. The words are muttered into his ear, Merle’s chin hooking onto his shoulder, and pressing their bodies right up on each other’s. He can feel each breath Merle takes, can feel his heat, and where Merle’s cock is rubbing at the base of his spine. Thing is, that feels good too, and he’s fairly certain most guys didn’t like the feeling of a hard dick right by their ass. “So fucking lost ain’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” He mumbles back, voice almost lost around the fingers he’s still chewing on, using them to try and stop the moans and whimpers of pleasure. They move together, he’s rocking back as Merle is rocking forwards, and the hand on his dick begins to move in time, stroking over his length and making him shudder. It’s so much better than when he touches himself. Usually he’s lost, trying to find out what works for him, fingers slipping and sometimes catching the wrong inch of skin and ruining the moment. But with Merle, it’s like his older brother already knows what he needs. “Need you Merle…”

It doesn’t feel bad to admit that, he’s always needed Merle in every other area of his life; why not this part too? And as if his admittance is the starting gun, Merle is reaching down to shove away his own underwear, shifting enough so they can both wriggle their boxers to their knees and give themselves even more skin on skin contact. The wetness of Merle’s cock slicks up the skin of his ass cheek, it makes him whimper again and he really knows something so small shouldn’t feel so intense. But it does, and with Merle’s heat pressed up against him, Daryl knows he’s way past pretending he doesn’t want this.

Merle’s hand moves over his dick, milking him slowly, running over the full length of his cock and making him leak even more. Each movement makes him tremble, and it’s with a shudder that he’s reaching his own hand back, grabbing at Merle’s naked thigh just to have some part of his brother to hang onto. He can feel each thrust against his back, and how every little movement makes Merle pant harder onto the back of his neck. Daryl’s been touching himself since puberty hit, he’s inexperienced, barely knows what he likes, but he knows he wants more. He wants Merle to enjoy it too. For some reason it feels like having Merle enjoy this will make it even better for him.

“I want m-more Merle.” He whispers around his fingers, clutching at Merle’s thigh, desperate for more of something from his older brother, even if he doesn’t know what that something is. Another thrust is made against his back, Merle is groaning in his ear, and even just the noise of it is enough to make his dick twitch in want.

As if it’s the push Merle needs, his brother is moving, pulling away from his back enough to get Daryl whining and peeking over his shoulder in worry. He doesn’t want this to stop, and he’s clinging, clutching at Merle’s thigh, trying to stop him from moving away any further.

“Easy little brother.” Merle tells him, still there, still in Daryl’s bed, still close but not close enough. Daryl can’t see him in the dark, but he can hear him scrabble around on the floor, reaching to grab something, making a noise of success before he’s back against Daryl. It makes him sigh in relief, and when those fingers curl back around his dick to stroke a few times, Daryl presses back against Merle’s heat. “You want more right?” Merle asks and he’s frantically nodding, arching back for more and more, knowing that even if he’s inexperienced, he wants more and more.

“Please.” He’s begging, grinding back against Merle, able to feel his brother’s cock against him. Merle’s fingers squeeze at his dick again, getting him leaking, pre come staining the sheets and his brother’s skin.

When Merle let’s go of him he’s whining again, cock desperate to be touched some more. Merle remains against him, but Daryl can hear the cap being popped open on something, the noise of a tube being squeezed. He’s a little confused, but soon everything falls into place when cold, slick fingers ease their way between his thighs. Daryl gasps at how cold they are, Merle fingers are wet with something as they slide between his thighs from the back. He opens them a little, enough for Merle to slide his whole hand there, right between his upper thighs, coating them in slick, getting them wet and slippery. Just the feeling alone makes him whimper, and when he feels Merle toss aside the bottle of whatever, he’s shoving back against him, eager to have more and more of what Merle has to give.

His brother is flush against his back again, the wet hand coming around to curl about his cock like before, and Daryl is shuddering at that. Because there is the smallest hitch of Merle’s hips, his brother tilts his hips just so, enough to nudge his cock into the wet crease of the back of his thighs. It feels strangely good to have Merle’s cock between his thighs, using the slick to ease its way until he can feel his brother’s dick behind his balls. With Merle so close he can feel him panting, and with each breath there is the best feeling of pleasure that comes with it.

Then Merle eases his hips to thrust properly, and Daryl is moaning out loud.

Clenching his thighs tighter together, he presses back for Merle, wants to be right there and feel him as he thrusts. Merle’s way more experienced than him, and when he moves it’s natural, it’s known and Daryl wonders just how many times Merle has done this with other people. He doesn’t like the thought of him being with anybody else, but he does like the feeling of Merle fucking his wet thighs. It’s not being fucked properly, but it’s close, and when he’s an inexperienced as he is, it’s more than enough for him to enjoy.

His dick is leaking in Merle’s hand, with each thrust it feels even better and he’s whining for more. Daryl arches back, his own hips bucking up for more from Merle’s fist, and then pressing back to feel his brother’s cock slide up through his thighs. It’s like being fucked. Almost. It’s not perfect, but he knows he’s not ready for something like that. This he can handle, this feels damned good, and when it’s his brother doing this to him, he knows it’ll remain a safe little secret between them. It’s happening in their space, their room, and it’s safe enough here for him to enjoy it and arch back for more.

“You like that baby brother?” Merle growls in his ear, voice low and dangerous, full of temptation and promise. Daryl nods, presses back for more, and loves when Merle moves his hips in a faster rhythm, like he’s fucking him almost. Feeling Merle’s dick slide back and forth between his thighs is almost too much, and he’s panting, loving the sound of the slick thrusts in their dark bedroom. “Yeah I know you do. You love it, you love having me do this to you.”

“Yes.” It’s more of a moan than a word. The agreement slipping free from his lips as Merle shoves against him, as he feels his brother’s cock press against the back of his balls. The noise is so filthy, the wet slap of his brother fucking his thighs, and then the tiny slick sounds of him thrusting his dick into Merle’s slippery grip. He squirms for more, trying to meet Merle’s rhythm, trying to get more for himself and give more to Merle with each second.

His cock feels so sensitive, constantly drooling wet with pre come, twitching in Merle’s grip for more, and he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer. Daryl both loves and hates how it feels. Excited and wanting of the orgasm at the end of it all, but also wanting to make it last longer, to have this amazing feeling for a greater amount of time. It’s not just the touch on his cock that feels good, having Merle’s body against his feels incredible, and when his brother begins pressing hard, biting kisses to his neck, he knows it’s all too much.

“Mer, Mer I’m gonna come.” He gasps out, wet fingers slipping free from his mouth to grab at the bedsheets as his body arches back for more. Daryl can’t get enough. He’s pressing back for more, loving the feel of Merle’s teeth on his skin as his brother fucks his thighs.

“Go on then.” Merle is growling to him, dark and full of lust. His brother tightens the grip around his dick, speeds up the thrusts between his thighs, and lets him tremble in his arms. “Come on baby brother. Come on, almost there.”

Daryl doesn’t know why it makes it feel so much better to have Merle coaxing him to give in. It’s not an order, not a demand, just a gentle coaxing for him to hit that peak, tumble over that ledge and lose himself in Merle’s arms. Because of Merle. Because of his brother. Those slippery fingers catch on the head of his cock, rubbing at the slit almost roughly, as Merle pounds against his back harder. His brother’s cock slips between his legs, miming fucking him, he can feel how Merle grunts and thrusts harder, his hips matching the movement of his hand until it’s all too much. With Merle touching him like this, fucking his thighs like this, it all feels so damned fucking perfect and he’s mewling when he finally comes.

He comes hard, thick spurts of come leaking from his cock, staining Merle’s fingers, and leaking out onto the bedspread. Merle strokes him through it, milking each pulse of his cock, coaxing each spurt of come from him, easing him through it all as he shudders and trembles with the force of it. His body shakes, his cock twitching and pulsing in Merle’s grip, feeling far too sensitive when his brother squeezes around it. That makes him whimper, and he’s squirming, trying to get some relief as Merle pins him down. He’s too sensitive, too overwhelmed and panting, cock still drooling come over himself, the occasional twitch as his balls squeeze out what’s left. Daryl can barely breathe it’s too much and he’s still shuddering through it as Merle fucks his thighs faster.

“Yeah you like that Dare?” Merle groans to him, voice hushed in the darkness, but still full of lust. Daryl nods, still shaking, still overwhelmed by it all, but knowing that yes he definitely does like it. He likes the feeling of Merle grabbing his hips to keep him steady, and the way he really thrusts hard, his cock slipping between his thighs so fast. Still caught up in his own orgasm, he knows he wants to be good for Merle, wants to give his brother as amazing a feeling as he’d gotten from him. So he clenches his thighs tighter together, still panting, still trembling, but he tries to make it tighter for Merle to fuck against him. “Fuck yeah right there.” His brother groans, his hips stutter and Merle drives deep one last time before stilling, dick thrust so hard between his thighs that Daryl can feel the head of it peek out.

It means he can feel when Merle comes and somehow that makes it all better. He can feel the way his cock throbs and pulses between his thighs, and he might not be able to see through the darkness, but he can feel beneath the sheets when Merle spills all over his skin. It’s warm and wet, and even if he knows really it’s the same thing, it feels so different compared to when it’s his own come covering him. It makes him feel good to have done that for Merle, and it’s with a sense of accomplishment that he slumps back against his brother. Merle is still there, still pressed against him, cock between his thighs, and sighing loudly in his ear.

They’re filthy. Sweaty, both of them covered in come, their own and each other’s. It should be gross, but Daryl hasn’t felt this good in a long time. He’s still breathing heavily, body still sensitive, but he knows he doesn’t want to move away from his brother. Merle does shift, grunting a little as he pulls back, sliding his sensitive cock free from between Daryl’s thighs, but he doesn’t go far. Instead his brother flops right there on the other side of the bed, still close, still up against him, just not close enough to make their oversensitive bodies ache. He’s glad, he doesn’t want Merle to leave him alone after that.

Daryl isn’t sure what to say. He’s shivering still, sticky with come and sweat, hot but not wanting to draw away at all. Merle is still there behind him, settling with a sigh against his back, breath ghosting over the back of Daryl’s neck lightly as he breathes. It’s not like he knows what to do or say after something like that, but all he knows is that he doesn’t want to say anything that’ll make Merle go away.

“Stop it.” Merle growls behind him, voice low, tired, filled with annoyance as his hand reaches around to snag at Daryl’s waist. Before he can ask what he’s doing, Merle carries on, mumbling into his neck as he curls around him more. “Not supposed to think too loud after sex.” He brother tells him, and Daryl figures he really is learning a lot from Merle tonight. So he stops thinking, stops worrying and just relaxes into Merle’s hold, letting their bodies press together even if he is messy with slowly drying come.

It should be wrong, but it’s not. It feels right to have Merle up against him, the two of them in their room, in their safe zone and pressed against each other. There isn’t a lot of places in the world that he likes being, but caught in Merle’s arms, in their room and hidden from everybody else’s view; well it’s his favourite place in the world. Even if he knows it should feel wrong, and he should be sickened by the fact that they’re brothers and they’ve done things with each other. He couldn’t care less. Because it just feels like this is where he’s supposed to be.

Even with the bruised ribs making him ache, and the knowledge that he was still stuck in their shithole of a house, it doesn’t feel so bad. It feels like maybe he can get through it and still come out on the other side if he just tries hard enough. Merle’s arm tightens its grip around his waist, tugging him back, pulling them flush beneath the sheets and there is the tiniest murmur of what he thinks might be some kind of endearment from his brother’s lips. But it’s lost in the darkness around them, another secret in the Dixon household that won’t be spoken of in the morning.

Closing his eyes, Daryl knows things aren’t perfect. But he has Merle. Merle has been forced to share with him since he’s existed, and sure he knows sometimes it sucks, but his brother had wanted to share something like that with him. There might be denial in the morning, but right now, the feeling of having Merle there, with him, sharing everything with him openly and honestly, it feels like it might be enough. If just for the moment. Things are shit in this house. Nothing is his alone. But if Merle was willing to share with him, then it wouldn’t be so bad.

Least this feeling right now, that could be his and only his. And he’ll take it with both hands.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another prompt up and done! I always enjoy some Dixcest to end the day. It's such an interesting dynamic to play with, and it doesn't hurt that they're both hot as hell. As always comments are appreciated and thanks to all you guys for reading and enjoying, hopefully there will be more up soon for you guys. <3


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